Fear Itself
by Visage
Summary: We all know that Malcolm is afraid of water... But how exactly did it come to be?


Fear Itself   
  
By Visage  
  
Hello everyone! I've finally finished the Enterprise story that I've been thinking about   
  
and writing on since the beginning of the season. Now, I don't own Enterprise, I don't   
  
own Reed… And I'm not sure what Malcolm's Grandfather's name is so I just called   
  
him Grandad. ^_^ Please don't sue, I'm broke, and ask always… Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
"Where could Grandad be, Mum?" Malcolm Reed asked from his perch by the   
  
bay window. For the past hour, young Malcolm had been standing guard waiting for his   
  
beloved Grandfather to arrive.   
  
  
  
Mary Reed sighed as she walked over to her young son, placing a hand on his   
  
head. "Malcolm, a watched pot never boils."   
  
Malcolm gave his mother a strange look. "What do pots have to do with sailing?"   
  
Malcolm turned his gaze back towards the window.   
  
  
  
Mary sighed. It was the day of Malcolm's sixth birthday. This was the day when   
  
the Reed men would be taken out by their fathers to have their first camping trip. It was   
  
to be a special bonding time for father and son.   
  
  
  
Mary could have strangled Malcolm's father. After months of planning, he had   
  
other plans come up at the last minute. Luckily her father, "Grandad" as he was called by   
  
Malcolm had come to the rescue. The sad part that this was not the first time… Nor   
  
would it be the last.  
  
  
  
Malcolm's face lit up suddenly as an old fashion red truck came rolling up the   
  
hill. "He's here! He's here!" Malcolm yelled skipping off of the window seat and   
  
racing out the door. Mary rolled her eyes as she picked up Malcolm's young sister   
  
Madeline from her place on the floor, and quickly joined her son outside.  
  
  
  
"Skipper!" Mary heard the familiar greeting from her father. As she stood on the   
  
porch, she saw Malcolm jump up into the open arms of his grandfather. 'Skipper.' She   
  
thought. She absentmindedly remembered one of the first things out of her father's   
  
mouth when they told him the name of his newborn grandson.   
  
  
  
"Malcolm?" He had said in half shock. "That's too stuffy for a young boy. Why   
  
would you want to label him as stuffy?"   
  
  
  
"I'm all ready, Grandad!" Malcolm said excited as a puppy as he was released   
  
from the tight embrace. "Can we go now?" His blue-grey eyes shinned with childhood   
  
enthusiasm.   
  
  
  
"Now hold on, Skipper. Let me just talk to your mother for a minute." He said as   
  
he placed Malcolm on the ground. "Why don't you go grab all your stuff and I'll be right   
  
with you, alright?"  
  
  
  
"Aye aye, Sir!" Malcolm tried to salute as he raced into the house again.  
  
  
  
"Thank you for taking him, Dad." Mary said. "He was so crushed when Stuart   
  
told him he couldn't go."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Mary Dear. I don't have to tell you what I think. That boy   
  
deserves better than Stuart. Deep down, I think you know that too." Mary shifted her   
  
eyes away from her father. She knew that. But she loved Stuart, and could never leave   
  
him.  
  
Malcolm came running back out of the house, backpack in hand. Quickly he ran   
  
up to his mother, giving her a hug around her legs. "Bye, Mum!" He Reached up and pat   
  
his sister on the foot. "Bye, Maddie!" He said before running over to his Grandfather's   
  
truck. His grandfather smiled with a small laugh as he waved his own goodbyes. Within   
  
a few minutes, the trip begun as they started off down the road.  
  
***  
  
Grandad looked out at the ocean before him from the pier of the Boat Launch.   
  
The sun was half hidden behind a group of clouds. A slight breeze was welcome in the   
  
warm, early September weather, whisping a few graying stands of hair in his face.  
  
  
  
The retired Navy Admiral turned to his grandson, checking over their sails on the   
  
small row boat. He smiled as he watched the boy who still had the excited gleam in his   
  
eye. It was the happiest Grandad had seen his skipper in quite a long time. Recently,   
  
Malcolm's blue-grey eyes had held nothing but fear. Fear not only of his father, but also   
  
of the tradition he was being brought up to fill.  
  
  
  
"All checked and ready, Grandad sir!" Malcolm interrupted his grandfather's   
  
thoughts.  
  
"Good work, Skipper." Grandad said. Malcolm was becoming skilled in the art   
  
of sailing. 'He's going to make a fine Naval Officer.' He couldn't help but think to   
  
himself. He silently berated himself. His father was already pushing Malcolm into the   
  
Reed Tradition of becoming and officer in the Royal Navy. He didn't need his   
  
Grandfather doing the same thing.  
  
Grandad checked the sky one last time. He had heard warnings of a storm, but   
  
reports had placed it almost thirty miles to the south with no sign of bothering them. He   
  
nodded as he stepped into the row boat, Malcolm following close behind.  
  
"Let's go!" Grandad said, pushing off from shore. Within minutes, they were   
  
paddling towards their camp site. Just after they pushed off, a radio that had been playing   
  
in the background began reporting a Special News brief.   
  
"Attention. All residents be aware. A major storm warning is in affect. Expect   
  
heavy rain with thunder storms within the next two hours. All residents are advised to   
  
remain indoors. Please stay tuned for more updates."  
  
The Sun was starting to set, and they were still out on the water. Grandad paused   
  
for a moment and pulled the paddles out of the water for a moment.  
  
"Well, Skipper." Grandad said checking his watch. "I thought we've got about   
  
another half hour before out here. We can set up quick and have some dinner. How   
  
about tomorrow we go fishing for some breakfast?"  
  
"Sounds good to me." Malcolm said. He paused in thought for a moment before   
  
continuing. "Do you think there'll be any fireworks tonight, Grandad?"  
  
Grandad laughed. "Why would there be fireworks? There's no holiday today."  
  
Malcolm shrugged. "They could be getting rid of the leftovers before summer   
  
ends."  
  
Grandad just smiled. Malcolm had always been mesmerized by explosions.   
  
Sparklers, Firecrackers, anything the boy could get his hands on. He had caused havoc   
  
for his mother more often than not over the summer. Grandad guessed she was happy   
  
school was starting again soon.   
  
Malcolm looked up at the sky. The horizon was turning pink and purple as   
  
twilight began to fade into night. The boy smiled as he found the North Star and pointed   
  
it out to his grandfather.  
  
  
  
"Have you ever been up to see them, Grandad?" Malcolm asked laying back to   
  
get a better view of the stars as they made their entrance.  
  
"No." Grandad answered. "Who ever gets the chance to go up there would have   
  
to be the second luckiest person in the world."  
  
Malcolm gave his grandfather a quizzical look. "Second? Who's the first?"  
  
Grandad smiled. "I'm the luckiest, because I have you."  
  
Malcolm grinned shifting his position to snuggle up against his grandfather. They   
  
stayed silent enjoying each others company until Malcolm felt a raindrop on his forehead.   
  
He laughed as he wiped the water away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "It's raining!   
  
  
  
Grandad moved Malcolm off of him and stood cautiously in the boat. He held out   
  
the palm of his hand. "They said it wouldn't come up this way." He thought for a   
  
moment before picking up the paddles again. The rain the rain fell harder as Grandad   
  
rowed the boat on. "We're closer to the grounds than home." He explained, yelling   
  
slightly above the wind that had begun to howl. "If we hurry we can make it before the   
  
storm gets out of control."  
  
A crash of lightning sounded. Malcolm huddled himself in a corner of the boat   
  
trying to stay out of the way. The rain poured down, blinding him to everything but his   
  
feet. Another crash of lightning and thunder caused him to jump. He wanted to crawl   
  
next to his grandfather, afraid of the intensifying storm. Yet he was more afraid of what   
  
his father would say about his display of emotion than he was of the storm.   
  
A wave pounded against the side of the boat, nearly tipping the small craft over.   
  
Malcolm was thrown to the side, knocking his head against the wood with a sickening   
  
thud. He was black in front of his eyes as another clap of thunder sounded. Another   
  
wave came against the boat. Malcolm tried to keep his hold on the boat, clinging to the   
  
side. Another wave jarred his grip loose and he tumbled into the ocean, confused and   
  
disoriented.  
  
The water pulled him under. He clawed desperately for something to grad onto   
  
yet, yet found nothing. Water ran down his throat, burning his lungs. He head throbbed   
  
with pulses of black closing in on him. He thought he felt something wrap around his   
  
chest be couldn't be sure. He gave on last kick to try and make it to the surface before   
  
the darkness completely engulfed him.  
  
Grandad's Navy training kicked in as soon as he was Malcolm tumble over the   
  
side. He dove into the wander and grabbed Malcolm around his body. Quickly, he   
  
brought Malcolm up and laid him in the boat as gently as he could.   
  
  
  
Grandad lifted himself up. Placing two fingers under Malcolm's chin, he   
  
searched for any sign of life. After a few agonizing moments, he found a weak but   
  
steady pulse.  
  
Grandad placed his hands a few centimeters below Malcolm's heart and began to   
  
press down, trying to force his grandson's lungs to work.   
  
"Come on!" He pleaded. "Breathe, Skipper. Breathe!" He held Malcolm's   
  
nostrils closed with his fingers and blew air into his mouth. He turned again to force the   
  
air out. Through all of his efforts, the boy still remained motionless.  
  
Grandad paused for a moment to check Malcolm's heart beat again. The life   
  
giving rhythm was still present, yet it was faint, and much slower than it had been.  
  
"Skipper, you're not ready to leave yet. Please come back." He wiped the still   
  
pounding rain out of his eyes before trying to revive his Grandson once more.  
  
Just as Grandad's hope began to fade, he heard a sputtering sound. As he looked   
  
up, he saw water gush from Malcolm's mouth. The boy coughed and sputtered for a few   
  
more minutes as Grandad sat him upright. "Thank you, Lord." Grandad whispered,   
  
clearing the damp hair out of Malcolm's face.  
  
"Don't worry, Skipper." Grandad said in a soothing tone. "Everything is going   
  
to be fine."  
  
Malcolm continued to cough and sputter for a few more moments. He felt his   
  
head throb from the collision with the side of the boat. He vision began to swim before   
  
he closed his eyes and righted himself.  
  
He felt his Grandfather gingerly examine his head. "Oh oww…" Grandad said   
  
sympathetically. "Looks like the boat won this round, Skipper." Grandad took off his   
  
drenched shirt and rung it out over the side of the boat. Carefully, He set it behind   
  
Malcolm's head as he laid the boy down.  
  
"Rest, okay Skipper? We'll be home soon." Malcolm nodded as he started to   
  
close his eyes.  
  
"King Phillip's War. Who was involved?" Grandad asked. He knew he needed   
  
to keep the boy awake, and Malcolm would never pass up and opportunity to talk about   
  
Naval Battles.  
  
As Malcolm rattled off dates and people, Grandad picked up the paddles that were   
  
still miraculously in the boat. The rain bean to lessen to a slight drizzle and the clouds   
  
rolled off over the horizon. The moonlight reflected off the water, showing the way back   
  
to shore.  
  
***  
  
After a few days stay in the hospital, Malcolm returned home with a few days to   
  
spare before school started again. Grandad stayed at the boy's side morning and night,   
  
hardly leaving to get rest himself.  
  
As soon as he had gotten a reluctant 'okay' from his Mother, Malcolm began to   
  
venture outside. Grandad took him on walks to the beaches that were surrounding their   
  
home. Malcolm strangely hesitated a few feet from the water. Normally, the boy would   
  
be the first to dive in head first.   
  
Malcolm sat down a few feet from shore and began to fashion a castle in the sand.   
  
Grandad frowned as he sat down next to his Grandson.  
  
"What's wrong, Skipper?" He asked cautiously.   
  
Malcolm held his gaze down at his castle as he replied. "Nothing."  
  
Why don't we go for a swim?"   
  
Malcolm's eyes darted up at his grandfather. For and instant, Grandad saw the   
  
root of the problem.  
  
Fear.  
  
The blue-grey eyes of his grandson that normally held such enthusiasm and joy   
  
had become clouded with a loathing for the water he had once loved so dearly.  
  
"No thank you, Grandad." Malcolm's response was short and clipped.  
  
Grandad sighed. He looked out at the crashing waves landing on the shore. Poets   
  
always wrote about the promise and life that came from the mighty ocean. But who   
  
knew it was powerful enough to scar a boy for life? 


End file.
